Tests 8 is the documentation of several inquiries into the maiden form, utilizing rope as the Inquisitor Normal. Each test is defined by cord, variations on a theme. By the end, it is clear how cord informs the skin and how the body responds to rope, so that each test emerges as a discreet interaction between binding and flesh.

The first girl is dressed in a see-through top, constricting black pants, and high heel platform shoes. She sits on a chair, her arms chained behindhand, her ankles fixed crossed. But as she squirms on the easy-chair, her youthful energies betray her. Shoes do not a gal make.

A bright red ball gag is pushed into her generous muzzle. She is fondled and stroked. Her pants are pulled to her knees. When she’s placed on the floor, her right knee is jump to her torso, and the left ankle backward to her wrists. She appears to have been caught mid-stride. The position gives a clear view of her pom-pom. When she’s tickled, she giggles. Until a hand covers her mouth and nose.

Before long, she is unclothed, a pulley keeping her perched on those impossible heels. The cords burrow into her flesh above and below her tits. Her knees are separated by a spreader bar. Her ankles are tied unitedly. Perhaps at this point, she understands her mistake in wearing the heels. Clips pull her labia wide, and she is scrutinized at this point of entry. Afterward, she’s left to stop her saucy dance, balancing her burden on first one foot, then the next.

In the second exam, although the flesh of the maiden appears soft, the wraps are maximum, giving commentary to wrists and waist. Her elbows are restrained till touching in back. Toes, feet, and ankles are defined this way. Her plush bust are confined by cord. Ropes form a hexagram over her heart.

The sleek, silvery skin of the third exam, as adorned by cord, appears contrapuntal. There is little excess. Her tied milkers are pressed further into her thorax. Everything seems tempered except for her clitoris, pinched between two tight cords, engorged after treatment from the eroscillator, and set off by her piercing.

In the final exam, the rear knots of the Japanese cradle are so complex that they cascade down the back. In the front, the wraps highlight her tits and collarbones. The crisscross of cords about her ankles then looped down to her toes feels lush, an apex of cord. Here, the art of bondage is exemplified. The left leg is extended rearward, then the right leg extended also. The globes of her anal are taut. She appears to have been captured mid-air. She is taunted with the famous Mr. Pogo, then her legs brought forward as though she’s sitting, thighs opened wide. Her labia are loose, like fresh petals.

At this point, metal intrudes. Severity comes finally. But even here, cord is the master. The wraps about her forehead, eyes, mouth, and throat are simply the last loud echo of each wrap that went before. She is chained arm, thigh, knee, mid-calf, ankle, and toe. The details quiver in the eye. She is introduced to Mr. Pogo and the eroscillator. But it’s the shapes we remember. And the moans. And the bindings.